


Never Let Go

by cadkitten



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Confessions, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-18 00:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7291771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/pseuds/cadkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a past that had shaped who Bruce had become, that helped to mold him into the man sitting before him as well as the vigilante he'd stepped off of his first building beside of so many years ago. Each piece was a near direct correlation to a world that was shockingly filled with stains of filth and the slick sins traded in the midst of Gotham nights. Just as much as Jason was a product of his environment - had been a boy saved by Batman, a teen shaped by Bruce Wayne, and an adult desperately grasping for his hold on this side of sanity - Bruce was a product of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Let Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TimmyJaybird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/gifts).



> Happy birthday TimmyJayBird. I know this is super late, but hey.  
> Song[s]: [Pillowtalk (Zayne) cover by Taka ONE OK ROCK](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uLOkCXUuXYk&feature=youtu.be)

Jason eased himself back against Bruce's desk, arms crossing loosely over his midsection as he leveled his gaze toward some point beyond Bruce's shoulder. He'd worked out this entire plan months earlier, but it wasn't something he had honestly thought he'd find himself _acting_ upon. Not with all that could go wrong. Not with the way Bruce had reacted each time he'd so much as hinted at his attraction to him all those years ago.

Even as he pushed a falsely easy smile onto his lips, he had to remind himself that he'd only been a teenager when he'd dropped all those signals. Now... he was far from being a teen; years down the road, a few substantial relationships under his belt and a hell of a lot longer to consider _why_ Bruce had reacted the way he had back then. Really, he respected him for it; for turning him away without so much as a single instant of thought on it each and every time. Bruce hadn't let himself be pulled in by anything Jason had said or done, hadn't taken the bait he'd dangled at any given moment, and he certainly had never so much as _looked_ at him like he even remembered all the things Jason had pushed at back then. 

Not that it hadn't been completely legal the entire time. He'd only dropped the hints after he'd hit Gotham's legal requirement for _consensual_. But he supposed Bruce had known better than him back then. Still a teenager... still in dangerous territory, regardless of legal rulings. Truth be told, Jason hadn't been ready back then anyway: not ready for a relationship and certainly not ready to try to take on _Bruce_ as a lover. 

Pulling himself back to the present, he let one of his hands move, pressing at his own hip for a moment before he slid it down over his thigh. He pretended not to look at Bruce, not to _care_ what his reaction was, but he saw the subtle shift of his eyes, the little inhale that was too off-beat to be anything but a stifled sound, and then it was gone, shuttered off as if it had never existed at all. Bruce continued on with his work, his hand never having so much as hesitated in writing out the numbers in his ledgers. He had people to do this sort of thing, but he also liked to check it himself once in a while, to see if the corruption was festering raw and unchecked inside of his company again, as it had been when he'd taken it over as nothing more than a child.

It was a past that had shaped who Bruce had become, that helped to mold him into the man sitting before him as well as the vigilante he'd stepped off of his first building beside of so many years ago. Each piece was a near direct correlation to a world that was shockingly filled with stains of filth and the slick sins traded in the midst of Gotham nights. Just as much as Jason was a product of his environment - had been a boy saved by Batman, a teen shaped by Bruce Wayne, and an adult desperately grasping for his hold on this side of sanity - Bruce was a product of his own. 

Swallowing thickly, Jason made his decision, the last bits of his trepidation falling away as he reached out, gently removing the pen from Bruce's hand, sliding his fingers over his palm and slowly threading them between Bruce's own, his grip tight. Their eyes met, locked in a way that took Jason's breath away. So much emotion crowded into Bruce's eyes in that instant that Jason damn near lost his nerve, nearly dissolved into the want to simply hold Bruce close and tell him he could just let go for a few minutes.

And then everything solidified, the idea and the truth interweaving into one, and he understood his path better than he ever had before. Sliding away from the desk, releasing Bruce's hand, he turned Bruce's chair just enough to fit between him and the desk. He wasn't even halfway to settling himself astride Bruce's lap when he felt the hands on his hips, guiding him down, helping him toward his very own goal. He settled, thighs pressed tight against Bruce's legs, his hands lightly resting on Bruce's chest, a war being waged between his mind and his body.

Bruce's hand came up, cupped his cheek so gently that it was _shocking_. Jason hadn't known Bruce was capable of a touch like this, hadn't understood just the extent of his own emotions until they were welling up inside of him, leaving him gasping like a man cast out into space and left to breathe there. 

Somewhere in the background the air kicked on and Jason finally found one trembling breath. Sitting here he was sixteen again, lost in his world of dreams that Bruce loved him in all the very same ways, in a world that left him uncertain how he should react. 

Bruce led him down, his hands gentle on the back of his neck and the small of his back, guiding him with an ease that had never occurred to Jason. He'd somehow always assumed Bruce would be reckless, rough and all jagged edges. But this man he was confronted with - this man with gray at his temples and a darkness in his soul - was perhaps the most tender person Jason had ever encountered. 

When their lips met, it was at an equal standing, beneath a mutual understanding that this was where everything had been leading for a very long time. Jason's hands finally moved, one threading up into Bruce's hair, the other trailing down over Bruce's arm to his hand, clasping it and bringing it up to press against his own heart, telling him wordlessly what he knew he'd never be able to force past his lips. In his world actions were one thing... confessions another. 

Bruce's hand cupped Jason's, bringing it to his own chest as his lips moved, ghosting over his jaw, over the stubble of a day of forgotten maintenance, and down to where his pulse fluttered so thready and desperate beneath his skin. The flat of his tongue dragged against it and Jason wanted to tell him a million things, wanted to beg him to never stop, to never regret. But the words wouldn't come, wouldn't swell up past his vocal cords to add sound to the movement of his lips. He spoked everything he wanted to say, voiceless and only a whisper of breath. Closing his eyes tight, he let it all out, lips forming the soundless words of too many years spent fighting every emotion he'd ever had.

It was only when he finished that he took in the absence of Bruce's mouth, the lack of anything but his fingers gently stroking over his hand, the other warm upon his thigh. His eyes opened and he found Bruce's gaze so full of warmth that he could have very well been dreaming it and for an instant he thought perhaps he was. But then Bruce's mouth was hard against his own and he found those jagged edges, found the desperate press of his tongue into his mouth, the forceful way he dragged his hips forward, their bodies surging against one another as if they'd always been meant for this and only this. 

Jason stopped nothing, moved with Bruce in a way that couldn't possibly have been misconstrued as anything other than what it every much was. His belly was so tight it quivered and his thighs trembled as he met Bruce's every movement, as if he could still anticipate him the very same way he used to when they'd patrolled the night together. He knew this wasn't _all_ he wanted, but he also understood that this was a fragile beginning. This was only the release they'd both been desperately needing: the emotional and the physical blending into whatever frantic melding this was becoming. 

Jason's knees dug down into his chair, his hands finally grasping at Bruce, shifting him until he could press against him more fully, could feel the way his cock pressed up against the front of his slacks, giving away just how he felt about this. Jason abandoned his mouth, dropping kisses wherever he could reach, one hand moving up for leverage, finding the back of the chair as he began to jerk his hips, breath unstable and his mind swirling with a need he was fighting a losing battle against. 

Dropping his head down against Bruce's shoulder, he had to focus on breathing, dangerously close to passing out as he rutted himself against Bruce's cock. His muscles trembled, his body screaming for release while his mind whispered to him that this could be the first and the last. He let out a sound that should have been a moan, that came out as damn near a sob, and Bruce's arms were around him instantly, holding him close as he surged up beneath him, working with him toward their mutual gratification. 

"Jason." 

He didn't need to say anything else, the simple breath of his name more than enough to level him back out, to pull his mind from the crazy spiral it had been reaching toward and ease him back to the facts. It had always had that effect on him, always left him with the intensity of knowledge that he was relied upon and cared about, no matter the past. 

Grinding down, he rocked his hips, feeling the press of Bruce's length warm against his own, even through so many layers of clothing. Turning his head, he pressed his lips against Bruce's neck, closing his eyes and inhaling what was rapidly becoming _their_ scent. Smoke and cheap cologne mingling with the gentle spice that had always been Bruce. Beneath that, the tang of sweat, the hint of whatever it was that drove him damn near mad in the rare instances he'd given into whatever crazy, desperate need that had welled up inside of him after a long night at Bruce's side.

Before he could stop himself, before he could think it through, he ducked his head back down, the intensity of the scent increasing as he tucked himself closer to the very source of the intoxicating masculinity. His hips moved faster, each lungful of air driving him higher and higher until he was surging against Bruce hard enough the chair protested, hard enough Bruce was _moaning_ under his actions. The hot tingle started in his thighs, creeping toward his groin, and he knew he wasn't going to last. His free hand dragged down Bruce's side, pushing up under the fabric of his shirt to glide over toned muscles. 

Bruce's gasp of his name left him trembling, right at the edge that he clung to, and then warmth began to seep into his pants and he _knew_ , Bruce was losing it _for him_. Both hands grasped the back of the chair and Jason ground down hard, feeling the pulse of Bruce's cock through his clothing, the wetness of his cum seeping in against him... and then he was losing his mind just the same. Flying. Free-falling into ecstasy. He rolled his hips one last time, letting his back arch and his head fall back as he whispered out the most sincere words he possibly could have. "Never let go."

And then Bruce was there, gathering him close in his arms, his hands giving him everything he needed to prolong what was happening, his broken words against his neck, lips moving in voiceless whispers just the same as Jason's had at the start... and he _knew_. He understood just the same as he'd comprehended so many other things in his life. _This was only the beginning_.


End file.
